


Of Foils and Masks

by Adi_mou



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Fencing, Gen, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 03:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adi_mou/pseuds/Adi_mou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock. Molly. Fencing. He seriously underestimated her. Birthday fic for simulatedfloridiansnow over on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Foils and Masks

He had noticed it the first night in her flat. Polished with care, the pommel gleamed; obviously she was very fond of it, despite the wear of the handle. She had not practiced in a long time- she no longer had the grace that came with the sport. ( _He missed it; it had been one of the two sports that had made uni somewhat bearable for him)_ He did not mention it to her, but he could not resist running his fingers over the silver blade, feeling the scratches ( _very old, hand-me-down, possibly her father’s)_. He had slammed it back inside the worn leather sheath the moment he heard her footsteps outside the door, and put it back exactly as he had found it. She would never need to know he had touched it.

Which was why it was a surprise when she dragged him from his work to a deserted school gym a month later when they were in Switzerland. He blinked as the smell of wood and sweat hit him hard. “Molly, what are we- _oh.”_

“Come on, come on, get dressed already,” she said with a bright smile as she twirled the foil in her hand. Her eyes gleamed. “You need to let out some steam, and this is the best way to do it.”

He stared at the raised platform. “How did you-?”

“I asked your brother for a favor,” she explained as she tugged on the protective clothing. She threw another foil at him; he caught it deftly, his hand gripping the handle with ease and familiarity. “Foil was the first weapon my dad taught me to use, and Mycroft tells me that’s the style you preferred.”

His lip curled at the thought of accepting any sort of favor from his brother, but Molly’s enthusiasm seemed infectious. He tugged on the clothing just as she brought the mask down on her face, hiding her broad smile from view.

“Don’t go easy on me,” Molly said, her voice a bit muffled as they took their positions.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, fully intending to let her have the upper hand (at least for a little while). His mother had taught him to be a gentleman, even if he ignored half of the lessons most of the time.

“Here we go!” she shrilled and launched into a series of thrusts and lunges that nearly overwhelmed him. He managed to parry, but his earlier lapse in concentration cost him the round.

“I told you not to go easy on me,” Molly pouted, holding up the mask to watch him drag himself up. The last finishing thrust had left him sprawled on the floor.

The second round went his way, but he was half certain that Molly had let him win; if the beaming smiles she gave him at the end of the round were anything to go by. The next rounds went by in a blur, but soon ( _too soon, it was the first time in months he had enjoyed something)_ they were in the final round, if either of them would relent enough to finish it. Mycroft had only promised them 2 hours, and Sherlock was sure he had surpassed them.

“Do you yield?” Molly shouted, as she parried another thrust and lunged forward.

“Oh do give me some credit Molly,” Sherlock retorted as he dodged the sloppy lunge. She was getting tired, and it was affecting her attacks. “If anyone should give up, it should be you. You’re tired.”

“No,” she said defiantly. “I want to beat you, I know I can. And you’re enjoying this, I know you are.”

Sherlock’s arms burned, but he refused to relent. “Of course I’m enjoying this, Molly, you look fiery, and it’s a very good look on you.”

It was petty, but he wanted to win this.

“I-what-?” she squeaked, and he lunged. He knew just as soon as he did so that it was a very sloppy move; he had left open nearly every one of his points.

And Molly, smart smart Molly, she dodged him easily and rapped him hard across the back. He lost balance and fell flat on the mat…again.

“Sherlock, love,” Molly said removing her mask just as he rolled onto his back and removed his own. “I was the leader of my fencing club back in uni, I think I know what a distracting ploy is when I see one.”

She shook her hair out and he smiled. “But I meant it.”

“Wha-?”

He swept out her legs from beneath her, causing her to fall right on top of him. He rolled her beneath him before she could react. “I was not lying. You do look quite fetching. And now that that damn mask is off, you look absolutely radiant.”

She giggled as he pressed open-mouthed kisses over her jaw and what little skin of her neck he could reach.

“Sherlock,” she gasped and he covered her mouth with his, her hand flying from his padded shoulders to his hair. “ _Sherlock_ ,” she moaned more insistently as he began to tug on her heavy clothes, their foils thrown carelessly aside.

“What?” he grumbled as she pushed him away.

“Let’s continue this back home, shall we?” she whispered, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. His brows furrowed.

“I think the fencing team would quite like their gym back,” she continued, biting back a laugh. He looked at the door and noticed a team of teenagers in fencing gear, a red-faced fencing teacher bringing up the front.

“How about the showers?” he whispered in her ear just before he dragged her up and stalked off towards the locker rooms.


End file.
